


rubies and leather

by orphan_account



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Collars, Dom/sub, F/F, Kinky, Pet Names, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Top!Yaz rights, very nsfw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-08-01
Packaged: 2020-07-28 23:35:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20072467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The Doctor gets herself a rather unique gift. One that she can only use with her girlfriend, Yasmin's, permission.





	rubies and leather

**Author's Note:**

> huge thanks to @timelxdy for putting up with me for over *six* months while I wrote this! And also to @yasminkhxns for proofreading! <3

‘Gemimia!’ The Doctor shouts as the TARDIS jerks to a stop, thick orange lights fading and hazing. The engines seem louder than usual, rumbling and thrumming up and down. Perhaps they only seem louder because they don’t have competition — Ryan’s sarcastic jabs and Graham’s left along with them, off to see the Rolling Stones perform their first major concert live. Truth be told, Yaz would have loved to have seen that, only the Doctor absolutely insisted that she come with her instead. Yaz only agreed on the condition she gets to meet Janelle Monáe.

But here the two of them stand in the console room, alone. Yasmin Khan, the police officer who had only  _ dreamed  _ about life beyond Sheffield before being thrown into a whirlwind of space and stars. And the Doctor, the Time Lord who had seen the beginning of the universe and the end of time. She leans over what she affectionately refers to as the wibbly lever, a huge grin on her lips. It’s one of the things Yaz so adores about her. She has so much passion, so much genuine excitement for everything she does. 

‘Gem-what?’ Yaz asks.

‘Gemimia.’ The Doctor repeats, a little slower this time. ‘It’s a planet!’

‘Right. Guess this one’s special since you were so desperate to show me.’

‘Every planet’s special! But this one…’ The deep groans of the TARDIS engines settle down, like a cat curling up to nap. ‘Y’know, it’s easier to show you.’ She makes her way around from the console, reaching for Yaz’s hand. 

Yaz squeezes the Doctor’s, tracing her thumb across the back of her hand. She has such soft hands, for one who’s seen so much and fought so many. Perhaps she squeezed a little too hard, because the Doctor stops, turning to her. ‘You okay?’

‘Yeah. Yeah.’ Yaz nods enthusiastically, smiling. ‘Sorry. Just feels nice to hold your hand. My girlfriend’s hand.’

They’d been… Well, they’d never really made anything official, but it’d been six months since they’d first kissed. Six months for them. But still, they didn’t get too much time in private or opportunities to date. Not with Ryan and Graham around all the time, and they refrained from doing simple things like holding hands around them, just so they didn’t make them feel uncomfortable.

It’s not like they didn’t know, though. Yaz had been the one who’d told them about her and the Doctor’s relationship, during a trip to Mantario. She’d waited until the Doctor had dived into the Mirrororororooriooioroa Lake to grab some ‘incredibly unique fungi!’ to tell them. She was surprised to be met with Ryan smirking and muttering ‘We been knew,’ and Graham sighing and going ‘Of course!’ 

The Doctor squeezes Yaz’s hand in return. ‘Kinda why I wanted to steal you away.’ She scrunches her nose up in a grin and pulls her towards the TARDIS doors. 

Just as the Doctor reaches forward to push them open, Yaz leans in front and beat her to it, swinging the doors open to brilliant daylight unlike any other Yaz had seen.

‘Wh— Yaz!’

‘You always get to do it.’ Yaz smiles her best Doctor smile and steps forward. The Doctor whines a little, defeated. Yaz stops in her tracks, turning on her heel to face the Doctor. ‘What was that?’

‘Hm?’ The Doctor frowns a little, confused.

‘Were you complaining, Doctor?’ Yaz tilts her head, bringing her free hand up to brush a strand of blonde hair behind her ear, taking a moment to admire that gorgeous ear cuff she always wore.

Instantly the Doctor stutters and her gaze drops to the floor, squirming a little. ‘N-No.’

Oh, she managed to get through that remarkably well, Yaz thinks. She was impressed — usually the Doctor was much more flustered. ‘No? Say sorry.’

Ah,  _ that _ did it. The Doctor swallows and looks away, her free hand rubbing at the back of her neck. Blonde locks fall forward to hide her features. ‘Sorry.’

At that, Yaz leans forward, fingers finding the Doctor’s chin and tilting her face towards hers. The Doctor’s eyes are wide, darting around, moving from Yaz’s eyes, to her lips, to her cheeks, to her lips, her fingers, her lips again.

Yaz drifts in closer and closer, brushing her lips lightly against the Doctor’s, eliciting the softest gasp. The Doctor’s lips part, inviting Yaz closer into a sweet kiss, a reward. Then she changes course at the last second and presses a kiss to her cheek instead. The Doctor whimpers in response, her hand trembling slightly in Yaz’s. Yaz lingers there a moment, each breath lightly teasing across the Doctor’s ruby red cheek before she murmurs, ‘Good girl,’ and pulls away, stepping outside.

Looking up, she sees why the daylight is unique. The sky stretches out above them like a freshly painted canvas. It’s partly familiar in that it’s a bright blue, but pink and yellow also splatter across its expanse, the three colours swirling together and apart like a light shining through a giant flag that had been thrown out over the planet’s atmosphere.

‘Doctor, this place is…’

The Doctor sidles beside her, interlacing her fingers with Yaz’s. ‘Breathtaking? Yeah, I know.’ The Doctor’s tone isn’t smug or superior in any way. It’s that real and full love for everywhere she goes that always shines through. It’s one of the reasons Yaz loved her. ‘You know neapolitan ice cream? Imagine that… but if it was a sun.’ She grins and Yaz can’t help but laugh. Her smile is infectious. ‘But that’s not all,’ the Doctor murmurs, and she turns Yaz around.

Just there, dangling from a white bark tree, are berries. Glistening red, glinting in the light. 

‘Rubies?’ Yaz gasps.

‘Kinda, yeah!’ The Doctor beams and bounds over to them. She picks one and holds it up to Yaz, up to the sky. The gem itself is a deep, dark crimson, utterly gorgeous. But, when Yaz holds it against the whirl of colour from the sun, all of the different colours are captured and twisted inside its warped prison, multiplied and shining through each translucent surface.

‘It’s beautiful,’ Yaz whispers.

‘Oh, good.’ The Doctor bites back a smirk at Yaz’s curious look. ‘Do you like it?’

Yaz hesitates before answering, slightly suspicious. ‘Yes.’

‘Oh, good,’ she repeats, her attention quickly diverting back to the delicate object.

* * *

The rest of the day was spent divulging into the rest of the sights and sounds and smells the planet had to offer. All of the wildlife was incredibly friendly, and Yaz had to convince the Doctor that, no, they didn’t need five more pets on board the TARDIS. 

The Doctor rounded it all off with a trip to the waterfall from the floating islands. No, they weren’t actually floating, but they were so high up that there was a segment where the water was falling without any rocks behind it. So, as the water cascaded and crashed down around them, the trio of colours from the sun burst and shone through it, illuminating the whole landscape, and indeed the Doctor and Yaz, in so many different shades and tints.

Then the Doctor kissed Yaz, and it was perfect.

* * *

Yaz had all but dragged the Doctor back to the TARDIS after that, holding her hand in such a firm grip she debated how long the limb would last. The doors open for her and they step into the familiar console room she’d come to think of as home. Although, this time, she’s a little more eager to get through to the bedroom. She has the Doctor pinned against one of the pillars in no time, her hands slipping under the Doctor’s coat to hold her shoulders securely. Her hips hone in on the Doctor’s, drawn in like a magnet to metal. The Doctor gasps at each grind of their hips, pupils dark and full of desire, and leans in to kiss Yaz.

But Yaz leans back,  _ just _ out of reach of the Doctor’s lips. The Doctor pouts and settles back against the pillar frustratedly, which just sends more heat flooding between Yaz’s legs. The  _ control. _ The Doctor had definitely helped Yaz discover her inner dominance.

‘What do you say?’ Yaz prompts.

‘Please,’ the Doctor replies instantly.

Yaz had come to learn every single tiny reaction of the Doctor’s inside and out. Either she hesitates and avoids eye contact desperately, all blushing and squirming when faced with a command like that. Or she’s far too turned on, desperate in another way, to take the time to look away. This is definitely the latter.

‘Good girl.’ And then Yaz rewards her, leaning in to ghost her lips over the Doctor’s like fingertips on petals, both gentle yet intrusive. Yaz’s eyes flutter closed as she nudges the Doctor’s legs apart with one of her own, settling her knee to press firmly where she needs her most. The Doctor is utterly sensitive as always, and Yaz knew before she even did it that she’d moan and buckle against the pillar.

‘Yaz,’ the Doctor breathes out. ‘Wait.’

At that, Yaz stops, pulling back. Her brows furrow in concern, head tilting. ‘Doctor?’

The Doctor’s still incredibly flustered and clearly needy. ‘Could you… Wait in the bedroom for me? Only... ‘ She swallows, a deep blush rising to her cheeks. ‘There’s something I want to show you.’

Something? Oh, now that sounds intriguing. ‘What is it?’ Yaz asks.

‘Something,’ the Doctor repeats, green eyes rising up to look into Yaz’s, reassuring. ‘Nothing bad. Just… something… Maybe a little embarrassing.’

Yaz pauses, eyebrows raised. ‘Well, if you insist.’ She leans in to press a comforting, sweet kiss to the Doctor’s cheek before obliging and heading down the TARDIS corridors.

* * *

The bedroom doors slide open smoothly, silently, just as they always do. The room is mildly bathed in warm, orange light, not distracting or disturbing. Something about the Doctor’s bedroom always seems comforting, welcoming. The light gives off a cosy home fireplace vibe to Yaz, and it’s always warm enough to ease away her worries.

She settles on the edge of the bed while she waits. The mattress settles with her, sinking down just enough to support Yaz perfectly. The beds on the TARDIS are always so comfortable. She imagines the Doctor needs a good night’s sleep after certain adventures. It can’t be easy, being the one they look to during times of need. Being the one who has to save the day.

It isn’t long before the door slides open once more, and the Doctor comes shuffling through.

Yaz looks up. The Doctor always looks a little sheepish when it comes to intimacy, yes — but never usually  _ nervous. _ She hasn’t seen her quite like this ever since their first time together.

‘Doctor?’ Yaz asks, leaning forward slightly.

‘Hiya.’ The Doctor grins and takes a step towards her. Her grin fades a little. One hand is behind her back, hidden beneath her coat. She’s holding something.

‘Are you okay?’

‘Oh yeah, yeah, fine. Totally.’ She takes a deep breath.

‘Are you  _ sure? _ ’

The Doctor meets Yaz’s eyes and she nods earnestly. ‘Positive. I just… wanted to show you something.’

Something? Yaz quirks an eyebrow. ‘Well, don’t keep me waiting, Doctor.’

The Doctor gulped. Her cheeks are burning. She ducks her head and finally brings whatever it is out from beneath her coat.  
It’s... A collar. Dark red, a colour Yaz associates with lust. Passion. In the centre is a metal ring, certainly large enough to attach a leash to. The leather is decorated with those rubies the Doctor had shown Yaz. The rubies from Gemimia. Yaz can’t help but gape at them — they looked gorgeous already, but now, embellishing the collar, they’re breathtaking. The orange light around the room seems to just make their multiple reflective surfaces _glow_ a deeper, more crimson red.   
Yaz looks up at the Doctor, barely suppressing a smile. 'What's this?'  
'It's...' She’s staring at her shoes. 'It's… Well....'

‘C’mon, Doctor. Out with it.’ Yaz says coolly.

The Doctor stumbles a little despite standing completely still on the spot. ‘It’s a… collar.’ She whispers the last word. ‘I was just thinking… Y’know, it was just an idea. That… maybe you could put it on me?’

‘That maybe I could put it on you?’ Yaz repeats, raising an eyebrow. ‘No, no. Look at me. Tell me you want me to put it on you.’

The Doctor draws in a deep breath, nodding to psych herself up before looking up at Yaz. ‘I want you to put it on me.’  
Yaz crosses her arms, saying nothing.  
It doesn't take long for the Doctor to add, 'Please.' Oh, she’d learned quickly.

‘That’s better.’ Yaz tilts her chin up, meeting the Doctor’s eyes. The Doctor can hardly hold eye contact for more than a second, her gaze flitting down towards the floor again. Yaz holds her hand out expectantly. 

The Doctor hesitates before laying the collar in her open hand. The leather feels cold, tough against her palm. ‘Please,’ she repeats.

‘Get down on your knees, then,’ Yaz says coolly. 

She can hear the Doctor gulp yet again before she lowers herself down, gently, onto her knees. Oh, Yaz loves every single time she does that. The Doctor, Time Lord who had seen so many things and done so much, kneeling for her girlfriend. Giving herself to Yaz completely. And now  _ this collar. _ Yaz has to admit it’s a turn on for her, too.

A pause. ‘And then what do you say?’

‘Please.’

‘ _ Beg _ for it,’ she purrs, low, commanding. ‘And move your hair out of the way.’ 

The Doctor whines again, just barely audible. ‘Please.’ The Doctor’s voice drops lower as she gathers her hair up, exposing her neck more. ‘Please.’

‘Good girl.’ With that, Yaz leans forward and slides the collar around her neck, the leather settling against smooth, sensitive skin. She pulls the end through the buckle, and yanks it tight for a second, just to see the Doctor’s reaction.

She gasps, hands flying up to her neck instinctively, eyes wide and twin pulses racing. She stops just short of the leather, breathing a shy laugh. Holding the collar, Yaz can  _ feel _ each and every breath the Doctor takes, pressing against the material. The feeling is… intoxicating. 

After a few moments more than she should have taken, Yaz fastens the collar around the Doctor’s throat, tight enough to remind the Doctor she is wearing it every time she swallows, every time she moans, every time she  _ begs. _

‘Thank you…?’ The Doctor pauses, awaiting a formal title for her girlfriend, if she so wishes.

‘You can call me miss, for now.’

‘Thank you, miss,’ The Doctor repeats properly this time.

Yaz’s softens her tone, something of a reward. ‘Good girl. Does that feel okay?’

The Doctor nods, still ever so slightly breathless. ‘More than okay, Yaz.’

‘No, no.’ She is sterner, stricter. ‘Not Yaz. More than okay ~?’

‘More than okay, miss.’

‘Better. Now, stand up. You’re wearing  _ far  _ too many clothes.’

The Doctor clambers to her feet, legs shaky. She nods silent as she shrugs her coat off. The grey material falls gracefully onto the floor, pooling at her feet. The navy blue lining catches the light, the glossy material akin to a whole solar system of stars and constellations. Yaz is momentarily distracted. Next are her boots, small but clunky. The Doctor kicks them off with two tiny thuds, clumsy, distracted. Yaz watches her awkward dance with an amused smile. She pushes them aside with a foot. Her star-dusted socks, freckled with glitter, slide across the hard floor, causing her to stumble.

'Now now, focus, Doctor. Keep your composure,’ Yaz instructs.

The Doctor nods again, hiding behind that blonde curtain. Her ruby-studded collar shines through, though, red light sparkling against dark leather. 

Slim fingers find yellow suspenders, curling against her top under the elastic, pulling them off her shoulders and letting them fall to rest against her thighs. They’re rays of sun against the blue abyss of her trousers.

Now she turns her attention to her top. Her hands drop past the rainbow emblazoned on her chest to the hem of the fuschia material. She lifts it up, up, her white undershirt lifting ever so slightly with it and revealing an expanse of unblemished skin which simply begs for the harsh graze of teeth or the bite of leather. It lands on the coat, like the pink clouds against the blue sky just after sunrise.

The Doctor pauses, looking to Yaz. She smiles encouragingly, nodding her head once. ‘Good girl. Don’t stop.’ To help encourage her, Yaz sits forward a little and shrugs her leather jacket off onto the bed behind her. The Doctor’s eyes are all over her, pupils blown wide.

Her white top seems to take the longest, the Doctor’s fingers fumbling with the form-fitting material as she pulls it up. It catches on the collar briefly, but it comes off easily enough, soon joining the rest of her clothes on the floor. Underneath, the Doctor’s wearing a cosmic blue sports bra — practical for running everywhere 24/7, but still her unique sense of fashion and just  _ utterly _ the Doctor.

The trousers come down next, the Doctor kicking them off clumsily and quickly, along with her socks. Then she’s dressed in just her elegant underwear and that radiant collar. She shifts, feeling completely and utterly on display in front of her girlfriend, not quite sure what to do with her hands.

Yaz stands, closing the distance between them slowly, each step deliberate. She has come to enjoy watching the Doctor squirm, stopping just short of her. Her hands find the Doctor’s hips, drawing her in like a planet towards a burning sun. Her touch is scalding, but the Doctor finds herself wanting more,  _ needing _ more. She can’t help herself, and she grabs Yaz’s hips in turn and grinds against her.

Yaz is too quick for her, a hand closing around the Doctor’s throat, around her collar, and squeezing. The Doctor stops in her tracks, her breaths slowing, that pressure getting stronger and stronger. ‘Now, now,’ Yaz chides. ‘Be patient, Doctor.’

The Doctor nods, her hand pulling away from Yaz’s hips obediently. She’s caught momentarily, debating whether or not to reach up to her collar or to let her arms drop. She settles on the latter, taking Yaz’s choking like a good girl.

And then the pressure loosens, a silent reward coming in the way that Yaz strokes soft fingertips over the Doctor’s cheek afterward. She presses a kiss just shy of her fingertips, and the Doctor turns her head, hopeful in the prospect of continuing their passionate, heated kiss from earlier. But Yaz pulls away all too quickly, simply fixing her with her gaze and saying, ‘Turn.’

The Doctor’s sure not to whine this time, obeying silently as she turns. Yaz steps in, unclasping the Doctor’s bra swiftly and pulling it away. The Doctor shivers — though it isn’t cold, it’s just the heated gaze Yaz levels with her as she strips her. She loves the way that each brush of Yaz’s fingers against her skin, each twist and peel of material away from her is as if Yaz is unwrapping her, as though she’s a gift - a toy, almost, awaiting the puppeteering of its owner. The Doctor is a puppet, and Yaz is her operator. 

Yaz drags her nails down the Doctor’s back, drawing a soft sigh from her lips. Yaz’s palm smooths over the Doctor’s skin and she steps in closer, shifting her touch around to her chest. Her fingers stretch out over her sensitive breasts, pleasure trailing just behind. Yaz’s fingertips find the Doctor’s nipples and, without warning, she pinches hard, setting the Doctor alight in a cacophony of pleasure and pain. She yelps, all too sensitive, biting her tongue to stop the moan that tried to follow.

Then the pressure eases off, Yaz dropping her hands back to the Doctor’s hips. The gentle way she turns her around to face her again is in stark contrast to the pain of that pinch earlier. The Doctor looks at Yaz with nothing but lust and submission, desperate and aching for her touch, but only with permission. Yaz hooks her thumbs into the Doctor’s underwear and pauses, looking up and into her eyes with a smirk on her lips. ‘What do you say?’

‘Please,’ the Doctor answers.

‘Please,  _ what?’ _ Yaz prompts.

‘Please, miss,’ the Doctor corrects herself. She shifts on the spot, brushing against Yaz’s thumbs.

With that, Yaz draws the underwear down, down her toned legs, crouching the further she goes. The Doctor lifts one leg obediently to help while Yaz pulls it off, lifting the other in turn as it’s then discarded. The Doctor presses her legs together as soon as she can, in the vain hope that that might hide just how soaked she is.

But it doesn’t escape Yaz’s attention. She straightens up, a hand dropping between the Doctor’s legs and nudging her thighs apart, just barely. ‘Oh, now what’s this?’ Yaz asks, her voice sing-songy. She dances her fingertip lightly around where the Doctor needs her most, never quite satisfying her properly.

The Doctor can’t keep still, her thighs trembling, completely at Yaz’s mercy.  _ ‘Please,’  _ she echoes, her voice starting to get a touch more needy.

‘Please?’ Yaz asks, acting all oblivious. She even manages to keep a straight face this time, her digit continuing its tortuous tango.

‘Please, more, miss.’

‘Good girl.’ The pressure finds the Doctor’s clit expertly, and Yaz presses up, up, until the Doctor’s squirming on her tip toes. Words fail her completely, replaced by soft whines, growing increasingly in desperation. 'Who's a good girl?’ prompts Yaz.

The Doctor sighs blissfully, toes curling. 'Me.’

'Yes, you are.’ Yaz smirks, pulling her hands and the pressure away, drawing another whine from the Doctor's lips. 'Down on your knees.’

The Doctor all but collapses onto her knees at Yaz's command, glancing up at her with those big green eyes.

Yaz makes quick work of kicking her shoes off, unbuckling her belt, and undoing the top button of her jeans. Then she pauses, a mischievous glint in her eye. 'C'mere, Doctor.’

The Doctor shuffles forwards obediently, that collar shining dark crimson. 'Yes, miss?’

'Unzip my jeans.’ The Doctor's hands fly up instinctively, but Yaz halts her with a sharp, 'Ah.’ The Doctor's caught off guard, hands coming down again and her expression reminiscent of a scolded kitten. 'Use your teeth,’ Yaz clarifies.

The Doctor has to stifle another moan, nodding her consent. 'Yes, miss,’ she echoes, leaning in closer. Her nose brushes against the denim, so close to Yaz's core. Her teeth close around the metal zip, cool, small, and she draaaaags it down. She's slow, purposeful, tilting her head to glance up at Yaz as she does so. 

She almost wishes she hadn't — the look Yaz gives her makes heat flood to the apex of her thighs. She turns her attention back to the zip, reaching the bottom and releasing her teeth. 

'Good girl,’ Yaz praises, deciding to help her out by pushing her jeans down the rest of the way. Her top joins them on the floor, leaving her in nothing but her lingerie, dark red and lacy. She’d put them on especially for the Doctor, and by the way the Time Lord is all but drooling over her, it has just the effect Yaz is after. ‘Take my bra off now.’

The Doctor starts to pull herself up, but she stops when Yaz shakes her head.

‘Nuh uh, baby. Stay on your knees. Just lean up.’

The Doctor swallows thickly, pupils dark with lust as she does as she’s told. ‘Yes, miss.’ She reaches around Yaz’s chest, her head ending up rather close to the bare skin of her stomach while she fumbles with the bra clasp. She’s clumsy, but she eventually pulls it loose and peels the bra away from Yaz.

The Doctor has to bite her lip to stop an audible gasp. ‘You’re gorgeous,’ she mumbles, being incredibly obvious with her gaze.

‘Thank you, kitten,’ Yaz croons. ‘Distracted? And the rest, come on.’

The Doctor nods quickly and pulls Yaz’s underwear down, leaving both her and her counterpart completely bare now. ‘Sorry, miss.’

‘Mm, don’t apologise.’ Yaz leans forwards, close to the Doctor, and hooks a finger in through the ring on her collar. She pulls, and the Doctor lets out a gasp before shuffling forwards. Yaz tugs her kitten up, up, until she’s standing on shaky legs. She presses her body up against the blonde’s, warm against the cool air. Her lips dip down to press a hot kiss just shy of the Doctor’s ear lobe. ‘Lay down on the bed,’ she whispers, voice low and sultry.

The Doctor’s scrambling to obey, clambering onto the bed and laying down. She can’t seem to settle, all squirmy and whimpery, pressing her thighs together intermittently.

Yaz climbs on after her, much more composed and elegant in every movement. ‘Would you like me to sit on your face, kitten?’

The Doctor gulps and nods. Her cheeks are red, and she’s avoiding all eye contact.

‘Oh, I can’t quite hear you,’ Yaz teases, a smirk on her lips.

‘Yes,’ the Doctor all but squeaks.

Yaz sighs, shaking her head disapprovingly. She leans forward and closes her hands around the Doctor’s neck, just above her collar. Her grip tightens, and then she’s choking her again.

The Doctor’s eyes go wide, alert, looking straight at her girlfriend now.

‘First of all, look at me when you answer. Secondly, yes,  _ what?’  _

‘Yes, miss!’ The Doctor corrects herself, lips hanging open to draw in more air.

Yaz’s grip loosens, and her lips curl into a smile. ‘Good girl. Now ask me properly.’ The Doctor’s gaze starts to drift away, but Yaz is quick to correct her by choking her again.

‘Please sit on my face, miss!’ The Doctor rushes out, holding eye contact all the while. Her cheeks are properly scarlet now.

Yaz keeps her hold tight, leaning in to press a soft kiss to blushing cheeks, a sharp contrast from her choking. ‘Good girl.’ Then, finally, she lets go.

The Doctor gasps for air, squirming and fidgeting again.

‘Lie still,’ Yaz scolds. The Doctor is quick to obey. Instead, her eyes go wide while Yaz repositions herself, legs apart, hips just inches above the Doctor’s face. She looks rather like a deer caught in headlights.

‘Please, miss.’ It seems to slip out naturally, instinctively. 

‘If you insist,’ Yaz replies with a smirk. She lowers herself down with a blissful sigh, one leg either side of the Doctor’s head.

The Doctor gets to work instantly, sucking a hot, passionate kiss to Yaz’s heat.

Yaz gasps, her whole body shuddering as pleasure rocks her with each stroke of the Doctor’s tongue. She laps at her like a kitten, worshipping her like a goddess. Yaz’s hands reach down to thread through blonde hair, knuckles turning white as she grips tightly. ‘Fffh, just like that, good girl.’

The Doctor hums her approval at the praise, even while her mouth is being used. She kisses and licks and sucks at Yaz until the younger woman is moaning and quivering against her, in her own little reverie as she’s worshipped. She comes with the Doctor’s name on her lips and an iron grip in blonde tresses, keeping her there until she’s fully sated. 

Even then, she still has the energy and desire to sit up, pulling her hands away. ‘Good girl. You’re awfully talented at worshipping your owner, aren’t you, little one?’ When the Doctor gives an eager little nod, all but drenched between her thighs, Yaz smirks, reaching out to cup a flushed, slightly damp cheek. ‘Would you like me to fuck you now, kitten?’

The Doctor nods again, her voice small. ‘Yes,  _ please, _ miss. Please.’

Yaz reaches under the bed, retrieving the strap-on. They’d picked it out, chosen it and bought it together. She wastes no time in fastening it to her hips, pulling the harness tight.

The Doctor’s green irises drink in the sight of Yaz, naked save for the strap-on clinging snugly to her hips. She sits up from the bed, climbing onto all fours. But before she does anything else, she crawls over to the edge of the mattress, leans forward, and draws her tongue over the toy lightly, from the base to the tip. She looks up at Yaz, keen to hold eye contact while her tongue swirls and laps.

Yaz has to suppress a moan as she looks down at her kitten. ‘Mm, open your mouth. Get it nice and wet.’

The Doctor’s lips part obediently, and she envelopes the tip into her mouth. She starts to bob her head, building up a steady rhythm. Yaz’s hand comes down to the Doctor’s head to guide and control her pace. The Doctor gags as the toy hits the back of her throat, all too eager to please her owner.

‘There’s a good pet,’ Yaz croons. ‘Just a little more, there we go. Turn for me.’ 

The Doctor nods eagerly, turning around for her counterpart. She spreads her legs, still on all fours, and gives her hips an impatient little wiggle. 

‘Oh, look at you! Such a good girl,’ Yaz purrs in encouragement, reaching out to smooth her palm over the unblemished skin of her backside. ‘Ask me to spank you, pet.’

The Doctor has to stifle a moan just at hearing the words, stumbling to get her response out. ‘Please spank me, miss. Please.’

Yaz brings her hand down swiftly, the smack echoing throughout the room. Combined with the resulting hiss from the Doctor’s throat, it’s music to Yaz’s ears. She soothes the sting with her palm, her voice laced with concern. ‘Was that okay?’

The Doctor nods eagerly, glancing over her shoulder. ‘Yes. One…’ The Doctor murmurs, starting to count them.

Yaz has to hide her rather smug smile as she brings her hand down harder, earning a louder gasp of pain from her girlfriend.

‘Two.’ She has to take a deep breath after that, adjusting on all fours.

Yaz decides to up the pace a little, and brings her hand down twice in succession, each one as hard as the last.

‘Three, four!’ the Doctor gasps out, her jaw clenching.

‘I don’t hear you thanking me,’ Yaz coos.

The Doctor rushes to obey. ‘Th-Thank you mi— Ahh!’ She’s cut off by Yaz’s hand coming down on her backside four times in quick succession, each one making the Doctor gasp and moan.

‘How many was that?’ asks Yaz, straightening up now.

‘F-F… Four.’

‘And in total?’

The Doctor sucks in a breath, arms a little shaky now. ‘Eight.’

‘Eight,  _ what?’ _

‘Eight, miss!’ 

‘There’s a good girl. Do you want me to fuck you now, little one?’

The Doctor nods, crawling a little further up on the bed, pushing her glowing red cheeks eagerly in Yaz’s direction. 

‘Someone’s eager,’ Yaz coos, climbing onto the bed after her, on her knees. Yaz’s hands settle firmly on the Doctor’s hips, drawing her in, nice and firm. She settles behind her, grinding their hips together and running the toy slowly over the Doctor’s core. The Doctor is so sensitive already. ‘Please, miss.’

‘Hmm? Please what?’ Yaz asks, her voice perfectly innocent. 

_ ‘Pleeeease,’ _ the Doctor whines, grinding against Yaz impatiently and groaning in pleasure because of it.

‘What do you want? Use your words, honey.’ 

‘I want you to… to…’ She has to bite her lip to suppress the next moan. ‘I want you to fuck me.’

‘ _ Please, _ I want you to fuck me,  _ miss,’  _ Yaz corrects her with a swift swat to her backside, earning a yelp from the Doctor. ‘Try again.’

‘Please, I want you to fuck me, miss. Pretty please,’ the Doctor rushes out.

‘Better. Good girl.’ She reaches down with one of her hands to guide the toy to the heat between the Doctor’s thighs, and slips inside her. 

The Doctor’s so tight, utterly soaking the toy, accommodating it perfectly, just as she should. ‘Hh, just like that, Yaz.’

The Doctor groans softly as she takes the toy deeper and deeper, until their hips are settled flush against each other. ‘Such a good girl for me, Doctor. You’re doing so well.’

‘T-Thank you, miss.’ She  _ grinds _ against Yaz’s hips, the sensation of the toy dragging against sensitive walls making her shiver and tremble.

Yaz draws her hips back now, both of them sighing as the pleasure rushes through them. She pulls back, until just the tip of the toy is still inside her counterpart. Then she brings their hips together again, building up a steady rhythm. Each and every thrust is deep and consistent, akin to the moans falling freely past the Doctor’s lips. Yaz’s grip ensures that her hips remain in sync with her owner’s. 

Yaz leans forward, her hips still moving nice and steadily, and tangles her grip in the Doctor’s hair. She pulls tightly, forcing her head up with a deep groan from the Doctor’s throat. ‘There’s a good girl.’ She pulls hard, using her as leverage to keep fucking her.

The Doctor’s lips fall open, her mind going into overload from the addictive blend of pleasure and pain. ‘You fuck me so good, Yaz,’ the Doctor breathes out. She quickens her pace against Yaz’s steady rhythm, desperate for more. She’s already  _ soaked _ the toy between her legs.

‘Ah, ah,’ Yaz scolds, shutting that down with another quick swat to her already red cheek. ‘If you want to speed up, you need to ask.’

‘Please can we speed up, miss? Pretty please,’ the Doctor begs, desperation making her oh so eager to please.

‘There’s a good girl!’ Yaz praises. ‘You learn quickly.’ So she quickens her pace in response, her grip tightening in her blonde locks and on her trembling hips. ‘What do you say?’

‘Thank you! Thank you so much, miss,’ the Doctor hums, hips moving automatically back against Yaz’s now, groaning and gasping every time she takes the toy to the hilt. ‘I’m…’ She’s hesitant to continue, trailing off instead.

Yaz soon corrects this with a sharp tug of the Doctor’s hair. ‘You’re…?’

‘I’m getting close, miss,’ she admits, but she’s altogether too lost in pleasure to be embarrassed about it.

‘Now, now, what are you going to do, little one?’

The Doctor swallows thickly, reminded prominently of the collar tight around her neck as she does so. ‘I’m going to ask permission, miss.’

‘There’s a good pet.’ Yaz decides to speed up even more, panting with the effort now. But it’s worth it to see the Doctor groan and buckle over and over and over.

‘Please,’ she whimpers out, stumbling over her words. ‘Please can I come?’

Yaz smiles, focusing on keeping her pace fast and consistent, letting the Doctor anticipate her reply.

After a moment’s silence, the Doctor pleads again, ‘Please, please let me come, miss. Please can I come?’

‘Are you right on the edge for me, baby?’

‘Y-Yes, miss!’

‘Are you  _ so achingly close?’ _

_ ‘Yes!’ _

‘Do you want to come?’

‘Yes,  _ please, _ miss!’ the Doctor all but cries out. ‘Please can I come!’

Yaz slams her hips against the Doctor’s firmly, filling her to the hilt, and stills all at once. ‘No, kitten, you may not.’

The Doctor cries out in desperation, but she manages to keep her orgasm at bay. She’s so close to her release, the air between them electric with the energy. She’s trying to grind and thrust her hips against Yaz’s, but her owner’s grip is firm, keeping her still — and filled deep. She’s so sensitive that even the slightest of twitches makes her moan and gasp in sheer pleasure.

‘What do you say?

‘Hhh… Thank you, miss.’

Yaz leans in, her voice low and smug. 'Good girl.’ Then she starts to withdraw, keeping the motion slow and steady. The Doctor squirms and whimpers and twitches the whole way, and by the time the toy is free from her, it's utterly dripping.

Yaz steps around the bed, running a hand through the Doctor’s blonde hair slowly. ‘Clean it up, kitten.’

All too eager to obey, the Doctor leans forward and caresses the toy with her tongue. She groans softly at the taste of herself on it.

‘Good girl,’ Yaz coos again, stepping away with a smile. She unbuckles the toy and sets it aside. ‘It’d be awfully mean of me if I was to deny you entirely. Wouldn’t it?’

The Doctor nods slowly, tentatively. She can barely look Yaz in the eyes, her cheeks burning.

Yaz sits herself down on the bed, pressing a kiss to the Doctor’s cheek. ‘Lie down for me and spread your legs.’

The Doctor has to suppress a moan at the mere thought, heat building between her legs again. She’s trembling as she lays back, blonde locks splaying out against the pillow.

Yaz shifts over, dancing her fingertips along the Doctor’s thigh. Her muscles jump and twitch at every movement. The Doctor’s already so close to the edge, so desperate and needy from being denied earlier. Without even realising, a, ‘Please,’ slips from her lips.

‘Please what, angel?’ Yaz responds, bending her head down to caress the soft skin of her legs with her lips. 

‘Please make me— h!’ The Doctor’s interrupted when Yaz starts to suck a kiss into the Doctor’s thigh, marking her. She doesn’t stop despite the way the Doctor twists and trembles and gasps, only pulling back once there’s a nice deep red mark behind. 

‘Make you what, hm?’ she teases, trailing kisses further up, up her thigh. 

‘Make me come, miss. Please,’ she adds quickly. She’s all but collapsed on the bed, almost completely drained but still so desperate.

Yaz is more than happy to oblige, rewarding the Doctor with a soft swirl of her tongue against the heat between her legs. The Doctor nearly buckles with how good it feels, a deep moan filling the air. ‘Fff…’ Her mind can’t even form words as Yaz’s tongue moves against her once more, dipping deeper down and tasting her.

Yaz nestles in nice and close, alternating between licking and sucking at the Doctor’s clit, utterly devoted to her pleasure. It’s barely been a few minutes before the Doctor’s all but writhing, her hands reaching down to thread in Yaz’s hair tightly, holding her there. ‘Y-Yaz, I’m… I’m gonna…’

‘Ah, ah,’ comes Yaz’s voice. It’s slightly muffled against her, and she stills her motions. The Doctor almost groans in frustration, grip tightening in Yaz’s hair. ‘Say please…’

Even her words feel good against the Doctor’s most sensitive area. She hesitates, voice trembling. ‘P-Please… Please, miss. Please make me come.’

Then, Yaz instantly turns her attention back to the Doctor’s pleasure, licking and sucking harder. One of the Doctor’s hands flies up to feel the collar, still nice and tight around her neck with every breath. Her mind is utterly awash with euphoric sensations as she comes, there and then, everything overwhelming her. The feeling of the collar on her neck combined with asking for permission combined with the sheer pleasure of Yaz licking and sucking at her makes her come apart more than she thought she ever possibly could. She’s moaning and gasping and bucking into Yaz’s touch as she claws at her hair, at the bedsheets for something to hold onto, to ground her from the dizzying heights of this pleasure.

Yaz works her through it, humming against her approvingly. ‘Good kitten,’ she hums. ‘I’m so, so proud of you. You did so well.’ The Doctor’s breathing slows down gradually, chest still heaving with each intake of precious oxygen. Yaz shifts up slowly, raising her arm for the Doctor to curl into her, resting her head on her shoulder. Skin presses against skin, not sexually, just comfortingly. Yaz feels so utterly connected and intimate with the Doctor, fingertips drawing little patterns on her shoulder. ‘You did so well.’

‘Thank you, miss,’ the Doctor manages, voice small. Her hands reach up to the ruby-studded collar, which she finally unbuckles and pulls off. There’s a nice red mark left behind. Yaz smiles softly and runs her fingertips along the pretty mark, observing the shiver her action elicits.

‘Was that okay?’ she whispers softly.

The Doctor nods fervently, wide eyes looking up at her as she nuzzles in. ‘Course it was, Yaz.

Yaz just holds her tighter, sighing softly. They’re both so exhausted but so comfortable in each other’s embrace, heavy lids slipping closed and their minds slipping away slowly into sleep.


End file.
